Weekend ~ 1/24/14 ~ Early Exit


I know it’s Thursday! But I’m off early. I have a girlfriend coming to visit this weekend before she heads to Singapore to work for two years and frankly I plan to give her my uninterrupted time. I suspect no one cares much. If you do,well……..

Last weekend I attended a seminar on SIBO via webcast. I was not ready to make the drive to PDX (Portland)- so internet attendance it was. The seminar proved to be a wealth of information. I’m a hands-on girl when it comes to understanding what is going on in my body. I loved every minute of the conference even all the medical bits that went over my head. And I gained a lot of knowledge- Including the reality that on the scale of things I’ve got it pretty good. Not to mention I may already know more than most about my diagnosis. Ha, help us all.

On Monday I made my way to our local co-op to suss out what they have to offer. After which I’ve been making some staples for my kitchen- Ketchup, mayonnaise. I also made my own batch of Tea Vodka and simple (honey) syrup for a cocktail or two when ready (hopefully soon). I planned on making sweet tea but decided instead to sweeten my individual cocktail as I go. Oh and I discovered my invention of the Tealight was nothing new. According to the Firefly vodka website it is called the  Southern. I plan to live in denial on this one and go on believing it is my invention.

I keep discovering websites and new recipes to change and adapt to my new dietary restrictions. Eventually I will get around to posting some of my creations. This week I’m digging Arrabiata Bolognese on spaghetti squash and my morning smoothie of almond milk (made with a quick easy method shared over the weekend), lactose free Kefir, dates and wee bit O’ honey.  After talking with my co-worker about her daughter’s struggles with Celiac and my time talking to fellow SIBO sufferers I think I need to create Buddy Bellies- A support group for food challenged individuals. See how PC I was there?

I finished the Toile fabric design and the packaging is being manufactured as we speak. Let me just say OMG I love it. Yes I realize that is completely boastful. But the mock-up is darling. I can’t share just yet- Top secret and all that.

Okay must run. I have some cleaning to do. Have a good weekend.


Blast from This Blogs Past


The Weekend Reading List


Something Extra

Listening to this song makes me want to………….dance.

The Other Side ~ Jason Derilo

The Woo Way ~ #fridayfictioneers ~ 1/22/2014

Good Afternoon Friday Fictioneer Addicts and fellow readers. Your mission (should you choose to accept it): Write a 100 word story. As always, should you get caught going over the word limit we may have to disavow your actions (no fear-no firing squads here). The inspiration you require is in the dossier provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. This message is set to self destruct in five seconds (God, I hope my story isn’t that bad). Good Luck!

bjc3b6rn-19Copyright – Björn Rudberg

The Woo Way

“I’ll show you the way” she mumbled under rancid breath, once manicured fingernails full of dirt. Wax on, Wax off my ass. The sweltering heat reminding she hadn’t showered in days.

Jean Paul, her answer to a  prayer. After Weeks of go-sees, cattle-call lines, presenting her portfolio to disdain, she was tired. “Come away with me”, he’d whispered over the nightclub’s boom-boom-boom.

“We’ll make wine.” She knew he meant love.


“Madeira…….my home”

Wiping her brow she looked over the hill’s expanse. From behind JP’s arms encircled her. Gently he kissed her neck. “God you’re beautiful”.

Our Home, she blushed.


Word Count: 100


P.S. Please make sure to read the others.

Voices of our Elders


Waiting in the doctor’s office I overheard an older couple banter with the receptionist. Spurred by the young gal behind the desk proclaiming her life was “what sitcoms are made of”. The older woman, nearing 80, quipped she would soon write a book about her life. Oh the stories she had to tell.

When my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s I wished I had asked her more about her life. I began collecting each of my family members favorite memories about my grandmother. As they piled in it occurred to me they were about her, but not in her voice or from her own unique perspective. I wondered. How would she recall these moments? Would it be different?

For centuries our elders have served as wisdom keepers. They were responsible for the welfare of their communities, the development of the young and worked to ensure decisions were made in keeping with future generations. Elders were the bridge between the past, the present and the future. So how is it that the today’s youth culture seems to have lost this? Or so it seems to me.

How often do you listen to your elders stories? There is a wealth of knowledge that should not be overlooked. In today’s society we are all too quick to dismiss them, patronize them like children, and write them off as Old. I call this hubris and it comes with a cost (loss).

I play bridge regularly with a group of ladies that more than eclipse me. I wouldn’t trade these evenings for anything. There is so much they know that I haven’t begun to examine.

So I say ask them questions. The stories are bound to be amazing. Learn about the elderly in your life or maybe just someone you meet at the corner coffee shop. Hell just communicate with new people. Perhaps if we begin to connect we can change something in our world. At the very least we will hear some interesting stories and most likely learn something new.

Image: The image above is for a greeting card I created awhile back. The inside message says “Let’s grow old together”. 

Confessions from Nightingale’s Nest

Last week I went through another break-up. But I get ahead of my own story. I have an affliction, Nightingale Nest Syndrome I’ll call it, perhaps some would categorize it as an over-attachment disorder, in this case the patient’s attachment to doctor. To be more specific I am oddly connected to anyone who has opened me up and actually placed their hands inside my body. I’m sure this could be applied metaphorically to romantic relationships as well but in this incidence it is purely literal and entirely platonic in nature.

So the weird thing about growing attached to a complete stranger is that I’m aware they are complete strangers. I know nothing about them. What I can tell you about this doc is he’s married, has three children, was a swimmer and did a fellowship in Australia. Oh and removed my cancer and my kidney all the while keeping me alive. But nothing of his true character and frankly I’m not sure my doc even has a sense of humor. On numerous occasions I tried to rib him about being man enough to wear pink gloves if he was going to open me up, or hoping he at least had fun during surgery. I mean one of us should have been able to enjoy the challenge of my complications and tricky tumor placement. He had wanted a different outcome so no smile. Frankly as much as I tried to rile him, he didn’t flinch.

Unlike my gynecologist who had no problem going with the flow. (Get it!) When I teased that if my body was going to continue to grow things then next time it should be a money tree out my ass (picture a peacock tail of $100 bills). She let me know when that happened she would gladly help me pick it. Hell even her nurse offered to get in on that action. Now if I can manifest that we’ll all be set for life.

I suppose doctors have to maintain their own distance in order to do what they do. I mean my back surgeon was all business. My ex-husband went crazy when he made him wait to hear how things went before showing up in his tux for a night out. And every day in the hospital I watched the nurses ride a line between empathy and detachment. They certainly needed to have both in order to do their job. Trust me modesty goes out the window rapidly in survival. And not everyone does survive after all.

Which brings me to my time in the quad. My initial recovery at the hospital took place in a  room normally meant for unconscious patients. Four women sharing a large room divided only by thin sheets. This made for lots of shared information on many levels. Conversations ensued on whether or not you wanted to have a good looking doctor. The predominant consensus was no, at least among the women revolving in and out of the room. I don’t think it matters one way or another as long as they get the job done. In full disclosure my doc…..very handsome. So the other patients said. *wink*

One friend while in hospital told her doctor if he was going to come check on her again he would have to leave his assistant behind. When asked why, she replied, “Good God, He is way too beautiful. He will only raise my blood pressure which in my condition is a health risk. Besides he’s as old as my son which is simply inappropriate.” When the young doctor blushed she assured him there was nothing to fear. She loved her husband. But it became the running joke on every check-in.

When I left the hospital I was utterly grateful to the nurses for their care. Let’s be honest they do the Lion’s share of getting you well. Friend’s had brought me gorgeous orchids to brighten my room but I certainly didn’t want to lug them home. So I place one at each nurse’s station as a thank you.

I find it more unnerving as I get older that doctors are now my age and God help me sometimes younger. Now that freaks me out. It shouldn’t. Age can mean wisdom, at least it has to me, but sometimes youth comes with innovation and ego. Especially I find in surgeons, but let’s be honest it takes a certain amount of ego to do what they do. My back surgeon was chalk full of himself but he got the job done.

So the break-up you ask? This week was my final post-op check with the kidney surgeon. When I left his office I found myself sad. I wouldn’t be seeing him again. Oddly, I realized I’d miss him. My further scans are to be done by the oncologist going forward. So we said goodbye and he told me to call if I had any questions.

Now I’m not so desperate as to manufacture issues just to call him. Or actually develop further problems in order to see him. Do people actually do this? I suspect so. But I’m not sick folks, just attached to life as that is what I gained from surgery. And in extension to the doctor that got me through. We went to battle. Him with his scalpel and me with my will and we came out triumphant. It’s warrants some love. Non partisan, non biased love- I have the same feelings for my gynecologist. She removed my uterus, another personal battle of sorts. And as I mentioned before she has a fabulous sense of humor. The difference is I still get to see her once a year, so with her there was no need to be sad.


Weekend ~ 1/17/14 ~Aussie’s, The Hoff, Toile and SIBO

Driving in to the office this morning my mind drifted to McCleod’s Daughters. An Australian television show I used to watch. Now I suppose if anyone reads my blog from Down Under they are laughing their ass off. It would be akin to someone saying they love Dallas. (Only this series was sooo much better). Or like when I lived in Munich, the insane out of body experience I had when people inquired with glee “Du you know David Hasselhoff?”

“Come again?” I thought, “Do you mean Night Rider?” which I watched by the way. But no they were referring to the Rock Star. No I didn’t say Baywatch star I said Rock Star. This was long before he became the Hamburgler. Imagine waking up in the morning to this!

There is not enough consumable caffeine to convince you you’re actually awake and this is real. To the German’s- he was a God. Me? I just missed Kit. And maybe home a little.

So I’ve been working on the Quail Toile and I am thrilled with my design. I finally got the final layout off to the owners. Who sent them on to their manufacturer in China. Who insisted they be vector images. I didn’t draw vector images. They were a mix of digital and watercolors patched together in Photoshop. And trust me this loses something in conversion to vector in Illustrator and there was no time to fix it. So I’m just praying they can use the files I sent. I am not learned enough with these programs to find quick fixes. Fingers crossed.

As many of you know I am a regular Friday Fictioneer, my weekly pleasure. Though after this week’s story my friend dubbed me the Master of Depressing Shorts. I have mixed feeling about this title. But as of yet I haven’t written lighter. I’ve tried to get my friend to join in the fun and games. But her self judgement gets in the way of her creative freedom. Hemingway eloquently said “The first draft of anything is shit.” And honestly the point is to write, not judge. So I have prodded her mercilessly. Emailing her this quote-Writer’s block is only a failure of the ego. – Norman Mailer. And so she wrote the following:


1 for 8

It wasn’t supposed to rain.

I wasn’t supposed to get lost.

My car wasn’t supposed to get a flat tire.

I wasn’t supposed to slip, breaking a heel, while getting out to search for cell reception and my phone was not supposed to fly out of my hand and sink into the mire.

My newly straightened hair was not supposed to frizz, and my makeup was not supposed to drip down my now wilted alabaster silk dress just as a Porsche came flying by.

George Clooney was not supposed to slide out of the car….

…and Damn it, he didn’t.

by DTL

This weekend I had wanted to head to Portland for a SIBO Symposium at the National College of Natural Medicine. But I’m not ready for travel just yet. So instead I am attending the conference via webcast. I hope to glean a few tidbits about my affliction in hopes of keeping it tamed for the rest of my life. Wee.

And as usual I will be playing bridge with friends. I tell you Bridge can give one insight to who they are. Personality traits are revealed, relationships exposed and patterns repeated. With this in mind I have learned I’m a wimp. Okay better said I no longer take risks. A good friend reminded me I used to. This behavior leads to slams missed and hands underbid. In life it leads to lost opportunities. Perhaps I’ll also work on that in 2014.

Okay must go now. Have a good weekend. See you on the blog.


Blast from This Blogs Past


The Weekend Reading List


Something Extra

Life After You ~Daughtry